Legends
by Sinisterclown13
Summary: Perseus is a young, orphaned boy roaming the wilderness of the Peloponnesian peninsula. When close to death, he is discovered by one of the most famous heroes in existence: Heracles. Perseus is raised and trained by the son of Zeus, and accompanies him on all of his adventures. DISCONTINUED. Sorry, lost all inspiration.
1. Prologue

**A/N: This is the product of my writer's block. Set in Ancient Greece. Something new and different. This is only the prologue, which will be very short. Hope it spikes your interest!**

Prologue

A guttural roar ripped through the silence in the small forest on the edge Argos. A frightened young boy suddenly burst forth through the underbrush, covered in scratches and bruises. His tunic—which presumably used to be white—was stained brown with dirt and mud, and had splashes of red mixed in. Small, leather sandals that stretched halfway up his shins covered his feet, but the shoes were ripped and worn from use.

The boy's complexion was darker than normal—sun kissed, if you will. His sea green eyes clashed sharply with his tanned skin, but they were easily the most mesmerizing eyes one would ever see. A mop of tousled raven hair resided on the top of his head, but it was slick with sweat and natural oils do due his recent lack of bathing.

In his hand was a small dagger—it was dull and rusted, but it was still a dagger. It didn't take an oracle to tell one that he was frightened; his movements were erratic, and his breaths were rapid and shallow. His heart thumped so loudly that he was sure the gods on top of Mount Olympus could hear it.

The boy had only made it three or four steps before a dark shape leapt from the same place the boy had emerged from, seeming to be pursuing the small child. On further inspection, the dark shape seemed to be a large breed of canine; it was around the size of a small bear, and had glossy black fur that contrasted deeply with its glowing, blood-red orbs. Large, sharp teeth were revealed when its lips curled back in a snarl, and the muscles of its body rippled as it powered on after its prey.

The boy wasn't much of a runner, and the massive canine caught up to him in only a few strides. The creature leapt onto the boy's tiny back, pinning him to the ground with its gargantuan paw. The boy managed to roll over on his back to face the dog, but could barely make anything out through his tear-filled eyes.

He was going to die, just like his mother had.

He had dropped the dagger when the dog had pounced on him, and he wasn't sure where it landed, and new he wouldn't have enough time to grab it and use it anyway; plus, the child doubted he was strong enough to do anything to the creature even if he had enough time to reach is weapon.

The dog bared its fangs and opened its mouth, preparing to finish its prey.

But suddenly, the massive canine was hit by something so powerful that it was launched through the forest, smashing through many tree trunks. It whined painfully, and then exploded into a small pile of golden dust.

The small boy's mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes were fixated on the golden residue of the beast that had almost just taken his life.

"Are you okay?"

The boy's head snapped to the opposite direction, trying to locate the speaker. If his mouth hadn't already been open in astonishment, it definitely would have been at this moment. Standing next to him was an utterly massive man—both in stature and in terms of muscle—with a short beard and a head of blond hair that fell to just above his shoulders. In his hand was a massive, wooden club that was dotted with spikes; it was so big that the boy was pretty sure it was taller than he was. A hide that seemed to be that of a lion was draped over his shoulders, and thick, leather armor covered the man's abdomen and groin area. His feet were adorned with heavy looking hide boots.

The boy just stared in response to the man's question.

"What is you name, kid?" The gargantuan man asked.

"P-Perseus, sir," the young boy stammered.

The man extended one of his large hands. "Nice to meet you, Perseus. My name is Heracles."

Perseus froze. "Heracles? L-Like _the_ Heracles? The hero s-son of Zeus?"

Heracles smiled sadly as Percy clasped his hand and shook. "Aye. Now, Perseus do you know what that creature was that was chasing you?"

"A hungry dog?" Perseus guessed.

Heracles smiled at his response. "Yes, but it is more specifically called a Hellhound. They are only visible to special people. Where are you parents, boy?"

Perseus's face noticeably fell. "My mother . . . the d-dog . . ."

Perseus trailed off. Heracles nodded in understanding, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"And your father?"

"My mother said he died fighting against people called Persians," Perseus responded.

Heracles knew that that was a lie from his mother. Perseus was clearly a demigod due to the fact that he was being chased by a hellhound. On top of that, Heracles had met most of the gods before, including Poseidon—and Perseus was the spitting image of him. If Perseus wasn't a son of Poseidon, then Heracles was a Stymphalian Bird.

And he certainly wasn't a Stymphalian Bird.

"Where is your home, Perseus?" Heracles inquired, hoping it was close enough to escort him back to.

"Sparta," Perseus whispered.

Heracles eyes widened. His Spartan heritage explained why the young boy was already covered in a layer of primitive muscles. But they were just outside Argos, which was days—maybe even a week or two—away from Sparta. Obviously he and his mother had been on the run for quite some time. Heracles didn't have time to escort the kid all the way back to Sparta, and he needed to head to Olympus as soon as possible to speak with his father.

Heracles sighed and rubbed his eyes. He had no other option.

"Perseus, would you like to travel with me? I can train you to defend yourself, I suppose. One day you will be a powerful warrior like I'm sure your father was. What do you say?"

Perseus's eyes had widened to the circumference of eggs.

"Really?"

Heracles nodded, hoping he wouldn't regret this later on.

Perseus smiled, sealing the deal. Heracles turned away from the young boy and began to walk away.

"Try to keep up, kid!"

**A/N: And the end of the prologue. Chapter One comes next, and it will have skipped a lot of time. I plan on using several historical characters as well as some OC's. People like Atalanta will appear with a main role, as well several kings and leaders. An OC of mine will become a supporting role, while Perseus and Heracles will take the main spotlight. The adventures of the Argonauts will be the focus of this story, and will possibly stretch into present time at Camp Half-Blood. I haven't thought out that far, so I don't know where it will end up. If you have any suggestions, either PM me or leave it in a review. Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: Chapter One. The beginning of the main plot: The Argonauts. POV's will be given before the start of each section. None of the canon characters will appear other than Percy. "Jason" is the ancient Greek Jason, not the son of Zeus from the canon. **

** NOTE: Decided to make the Labors happen before Heracles met Perseus. Also, changing Hercules's name to the Greek form because of popular demand I'll go back an edit the prologue too. **

-X-

**Eleven Years Later**

_Perseus_

_City of Thebes_

A sixteen-year-old Perseus lunged forward, but his skillful opponent easily parried his attack. He heard shouts and cheers around him as he continued his offensive movement, but was trying to drown it out so he could focus more on his opponent's actions. Perseus sidestepped his opponent's spear and slapped it aside with his blade before slashing again, but his attack once again glanced off his opponent's spear.

"Move quicker!" He heard a voice yell over the din of the small tavern.

He listened to this voice, however, because it belonged to his friend and mentor Heracles. In response, Perseus feinted left, and jabbed to the right with the speed of a pouncing panther. Unfortunately, his opponent wasn't a total idiot and blocked his attack again.

"Come on, kid!" His opponent taunted. "It's like I'm fighting an Athenian!"

Boisterous and guttural laughter erupted from the onlookers, all deeply entertained by the scuffle occurring in the center of the tavern. Heracles had been gloating about Perseus's ability to fight, but had been unaware that a member of the kingdom's guard had been present and wanted to confirm Perseus's talent. So far, Perseus hadn't made much progress. For just a simple soldier, the guard had astounding skill with a spear. They had been fighting for several minutes, but neither had managed to land a hit yet. Obviously, they weren't fighting to the death—just until one was incapacitated. Perseus had been knocked unconscious numerous times under the training of Heracles, and certainly did not wish to experience it any more than he had to, which was one of the many reasons Perseus wished to win the fight.

Perseus and Heracles had simply stopped in Thebes for a "quick drink" as Heracles had put it, but it had turned into much more than just a replenishing pause in their journey. Thebes was a beautiful city—different than what Perseus remembered of Sparta—but it was easily one of the most militaristic places in Greece, only outdone by the legendary soldiers of Sparta. Thebes had a gargantuan fort in the center of the city that held the palace for King Laodamus, who was technically Heracles's brother-in-law. Laodamus was the brother of a woman named Megara, a daughter of Creon (the king preceding Laodamus), who had married Heracles.

Heracles never talked about his past. Ever. And Perseus knew better than to ask; rumors about the famed son of Zeus spread like wildfire, and Perseus was sure he had heard millions of different theories for what had happened to Heracles's family. Some said Heracles was furious that Megara wouldn't give him more children, some said he was intoxicated, some said there was divine intervention. Perseus had been traveling with Heracles for nearly his entire life, and knew the son of Zeus well enough to know that he was not a cold-blooded murderer. In Perseus's personal opinion, he believed that Hera had something to do with the death of Heracles's family. Hera had despised Zeus's bastard child since his birth, and had attempted to kill him numerous times. The first time, she sent snakes to kill him as an infant. Luckily, Heracles had almost inhuman strength and killed both the snakes through strangulation. Then after the death of his family, he was sent on twelve labors that sounded nearly impossible to complete (Perseus was found by Heracles just after he had completed his twelfth labor). It was blatantly obvious that Hera wanted Heracles dead, so it wouldn't surprise Perseus if it were her fault for Heracles's family's death.

Thebes was Heracles's favorite city—or so he claims—in Greece, so the son of Zeus knew the best places to go in the city, which apparently included the small tavern in which Perseus was currently fighting. For weeks they had been travelling around Greece, just to sightsee. Recently, Heracles had been looking into leads for quests, but the duo hadn't done much since the helped defend a small village from marauders nearly three months ago. In a strange way, Perseus was glad he was fighting the guard because he had been dying of boredom and inactivity for nearly the entirety of the last month.

Throughout the duo's time together, Perseus had become to realize that the son of Zeus was well connected; Heracles had a contact or friend in nearly every city or village that they had visited during their time of travelling. Heracles was always talking with men—and even women, sometimes—about leads for quests or missions. On top of that, he usually was on good terms with the king of whatever province they were in.

Heracles had always spoken about gathering more companions to travel with—an idea that made Perseus both nervous and excited—but they had yet to pick up a third member to their group. Perseus knew that Heracles also knew Theseus, the king of Athens, and the son of Zeus often talked about travelling to Athens and attempting to convince Perseus's half-brother to join them. Perseus wasn't sure if the king could just drop his responsibilities, but it would be nice to finally meet another child of Poseidon.

Nobody knew of Perseus's heritage other than Heracles and the gods. The day that Heracles found Perseus, the son of Zeus had to report to Zeus. Heracles had to take Perseus to Mount Olympus with him, and Poseidon claimed him on the spot. That was the last time that Perseus had heard from his father; Poseidon had many children, and was obviously more enthralled with the likes of Theseus, Pelius, Orion, and many others than he was with Perseus, a mere sixteen year old. It didn't really bother Perseus, however; the son of Poseidon could care less about meeting his divine father. He was having a great time travelling with Heracles, and he didn't want that to change.

The man Perseus was fighting was a slender man around the age of twenty or twenty-five and had messy brown curls sprouting from the top of his head. His skin was fair, going perfectly with his icy-blue, mischievous eyes. A short beard covered the bottom of his face, and seemed to make him seem a bit older than he actually was. The man was dressed in metal armor—presumably iron or steel—and was wielding a four or five foot long spear with a bronze tip. Perseus was skilled, but he was no match for a trained soldier.

That last thought became a reality when the man lunged forward, slammed the blunt end of his spear in Perseus's temple, kicked his feet out from under him, and then leveled the tip of his spear to Perseus's exposed neck.

"Dead," he stated triumphantly.

The tavern exploded with cheers, but frustration filled Perseus. Losing was never enjoyable. Perseus felt large hands hook under his armpits and hoist him to his feet.

"Well fought, kid," Heracles remarked, "now it's time to get back on the road. Do you have everything?"

"Everything except for my pride," he muttered under his breath.

Heracles apparently heard him, because he chuckled good-naturedly.

"Do not look down on yourself, kid. You have a lot to learn."

The duo left the boisterous tavern and had just began walking towards the front gate of the city before they heard someone shouting.

"Wait! Hold on a moment!"

Heracles stopped and frowned before turning around. Perseus turned as well, and his emerald eyes fell on a rather plump man hustling towards the duo holding an envelope. When the large man reached them, he was breathing heavily from exhaustion.

"This . . . message . . . imp—" The man began.

"Catch your breath, friend," Heracles ordered.

The man put his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths before straightening up again.

"You are a hard man to find, son of Zeus," the man commented drily before holding up the envelope for the duo to see.

"This envelope is addressed to a Heracles, son of Zeus, and his squires Perseus and Hylas. It is very urgent."

Heracles frowned and plucked the letter from the plump man's hand.

"Thank you—" Heracles began.

"The name is Phylus," the plump man stated, "personal messenger of King Jason himself."

Heracles frowned as he handed the unopened letter to Perseus.

"King Jason? I do not know of a King Jason. Which kingdom does he rule?"

Phylus smiled as if he expected this question. "That is exactly the point I am here, hero. Read the letter aloud boy," Phylus ordered Perseus.

While Perseus didn't exactly like being told what to do by a man he could easily decapitate, he obeyed and opened up the envelope.

"Dear Heracles, the famed son of Zeus," Perseus began, "my name is Jason, and I come from the kingdom of Iolcus. I am the eldest grandson of King Cretheus, a man who was king of Iolcus nearly twenty-five years ago. My father, Aeson, was the heir to the throne if Cretheus died, but he was unable to claim his rightful place as king due to my nefarious uncle Pelius, the current ruler of Iolcus. He attempted to kill me as an infant to solidify his rule, and now I'm searching to reclaim the throne that is rightfully my own. Pelius has agreed to hand over the kingdom if I can bring something to him: the Golden Fleece, which is held on the island of Colchis. This journey will be to strenuous for me to complete on my own, so I am assembling a crew to embark with me on a magnificent ship handcrafted by the famous shipbuilder Argos, and Athena herself. Heracles, I have chosen you to journey with me, and I hope you'll consider my offer seriously. I have heard how close you are with your squires, so you may bring them along with us if you wish. If you choose to assist me, please make sure you are present at the docks of Pagasae in exactly two months from the date written at the top of this letter. More details will be revealed once you are there, and we will leave a week after all of the crew has arrive. If you choose not to come, then I wish you well, hero. Best wishes, Jason, the rightful king of Iolcus."

Phylus had an idolized smile on his face, while Heracles was biting his lip and staring at the ground while he deliberated.

"So?" Phylus inquired excitedly. "Will you join us?"

Heracles looked up at Phylus for a moment, and then back at his feet.

"Perseus," Heracles said without looking at him, "what is your opinion?"

Perseus was shocked. Throughout the years of his apprenticeship, Heracles was a despot when it came to decisions. Sure, the son of Zeus would occasionally listen to what Perseus had to say, but he rarely took the son of Poseidon's opinions into account. Perseus didn't know it at the time, but Heracles had finally begun to fully trust Perseus, and was willing to treat him as an equal.

Perseus mulled over the offer. A trip from Pagasae to Colchis sounded perilous and arduous, but Perseus's active nature felt attracted by the potential danger. Perseus and Heracles had been relatively inactive for the past month or two, as Perseus had mentioned earlier, and he was beginning to become bored with life as a traveller. Perhaps this was the chance for Perseus to enter the more exciting (and hazardous) part of life: the life as an adult—a hero.

"Why not?" Perseus asked. "It's not like we have anything else to do. And we have enough time to return to Arcadia to fetch Hylas, and then we can head back for Pagasae and make it there before the day of departure. Think about the treasure and fame we will gain! We can live in luxury, mentor!"

Heracles chuckled a bit at Perseus's desire for success, but the son of Zeus also knew that Perseus had a good point; Heracles hadn't done anything noteworthy for eleven years. His twelfth labor had been the last true test of his strength and intelligence, so maybe having another difficult task will keep him from becoming rusty and dull.

But there was also the chance that Hylas or Perseus could be wounded or killed—something that tried to dissuade Heracles from going on the journey at all. Heracles had met Hylas—who was a young boy at the time—while traveling with Perseus, and the two children had become best friends almost instantly. Hylas had a distant uncle who lived in Arcadia (a small region in the Peloponnesian peninsula), and Hylas had been staying with him as he went to a school to learn about philosophy and poetry. That's how it had always been as they travelled; Perseus and Heracles did the fighting, and Hylas would tell stories (most were a tad melodramatic, however) about their exploits, and would often right small poems and haikus. Hylas usually sacrificed most of his food to Apollo in hopes that the god of poetry would help Hylas create a masterpiece that set him apart from the other famous philosophers and poets. Hylas was talented already, and going to the small, prestigious school in Arcadia had surely helped him improve his skills to new heights.

Heracles groaned and rubbed his stubbly beard with his bulky hands. His electric blue eyes fell on Perseus, who had his hands clasped together excitedly, and was waiting for the son of Zeus's answer anxiously.

"Fine," Heracles muttered finally.

"YES!" Perseus exclaimed, a wide grin threatening to split his face in half.

Phylus seemed to be equally ecstatic.

"Good choice, son of Zeus," Phylus said with a smile, "I'll see you in Pagasae, I suppose. Best of luck to you."

Phylus gave a small bow before retreating into the center of the city, while Heracles and Perseus made their way to the gate, both wondering what Hylas would say when they showed up in Arcadia.

-X-

_Unknown_

_Thrace_

"I cannot believe you actually wish to do this, Ekhion. This quest sounds like it is doomed to fail," a man commented candidly as he reluctantly packed a small pack filled with provisions.

The two young men that were conversing were standing in an elegantly decorated bedroom—one fit for royalty. The one who was being chastised—the one called Ekhion—was digging through a trunk at the end of the neat bed, casually pulling out multitudes of sharp knives and arrows.

Ekhion seemed to be a young man around the age or twenty or twenty-one—the prime age for a hero or a soldier. Ekhion was clearly built to be either; he was slender, but his body was covered in lithe muscles. Tousled blonde hair covered the top of his head, and fell to just above his icy-blue eyes. A soft shadow of whiskers covered his face—he had apparently shaved recently. He was dressed in lightweight, maroon-colored leather armor that covered a dark grey chiton that stopped just above his knees. His feet were adorned with muddied, black, hide boots that kept his feet warm.

"Can't you be happy here in the palace?" The man pushed, his eyes silently pleading with Ekhion.

"I'm not built for royalty like you are, Eurytus. You may be a lord of Alope, but I am not. I'm your heir—that much is true—but I'm just a thief and a rogue. Politics bore me, brother. I have to leave here before I go insane from all of this. That is why I am going. And you will come with me because you too need a break from this—not that you'd ever admit it aloud, of course."

Eurytus rolled his eyes. Eurytus was built similarly to Ekhion, although he had dark brown curls and darker blue eyes than his younger brother. Eurytus was dressed in a decorative toga lined with traces of dark blue and grey—the colors of his kingdom. Unlike Ekhion, Eurytus wasn't built for combat—or anything physical, for that matter.

When they were younger, Ekhion was known as the clever thief who always managed to get what he wanted without getting caught. But whenever Eurytus attempted to copy Ekhion's strategies, he would be caught red-handed each time. They were lucky that their father was king then; they would have been punished harshly if he weren't. But the point was Eurytus was a bit apprehensive of this perilous-sounding journey. As much as he wanted to leave his monotonous duties, running towards something so dangerous didn't seem like a very intelligent decision.

Yet here he was, watching his knife throwing, thieving brother pack up his supplies. Ekhion had draped his grey cloak with the hood—his favorite—over his shoulders, and had slid on his bracers that had small, hidden blades on the inside. He also had two bandoliers under his cloak that held several knives by his shoulders; all Ekhion had to do in a fight was reach back, grab one, and then hurl it.

Ekhion slung his bow over one soldier, and then his quiver over the other. He looked like a well-armed marauder to Eurytus, but hey—that's truly what Ekhion was. The rumored son of Hermes happened to save a young girl during a robbery, and suddenly he was famous across Greece. Ekhion was a children's story now for something that Eurytus assumed was a reflexive choice; Ekhion was a bit selfish sometimes, and Eurytus doubted he would stop his escape and risk getting caught just to save a young girl who was being robbed.

Hell, if the girl wasn't already being robbed, Eurytus suspected Ekhion might have even robbed her himself.

But despite all of Ekhion's terrible qualities (his thieving, his uncanny ability to piss off any type of authority figure, and his mild greed for expensive things), Ekhion was still Eurytus's younger brother, and Eurytus would be damned straight to Tartarus before he allowed his little brother to walk into a suicide mission.

"Di immortales," Eurytus muttered bitterly before looking up at Ekhion, who was lifting up the last of his supplies, "Fine. I'll come. Just give a minute to pack."

Ekhion left the room with a smug smile plastered on his face.

-X-

_Unknown_

_Argos_

A slender, young woman walking through the streets of Argos was attracting the appreciative eyes of many males. She looked to be around the age of twenty; just barely an adult. The woman was dressed in leather, hunting garb; a top that covered her torso, bracers that protected her wrists and lower forearms, and a matching skirt that made it just below the midway point on her thighs. Her hide boots made almost no noise as they padded down the cobblestone pathway. A quiver of wooden arrows with silver tips were slung over her shoulder, while a wooden bow hung limply in one of her hands.

Her most attention-gaining aspect (besides her obviously feminine body) was a small, silver necklace that she wore around her fair-skinned neck. The sunlight seemed to reflect off of it magnificently, as if to draw even more attention to it. A small emblem hung in the front: a crescent moon. Most who noticed it had no earthly idea what it meant, but that was all right. The woman knew what it signified, and that was all that mattered.

"Wait! You there! The woman with the bow!" A voice called.

The woman's sharp emerald eyes darted to the speaker, which was a thin, lanky man who seemed to be out of breath. One of her hands slid to her waist, where her two matching hunting knives were sheathed. Having strange men call at her while she was on the street was surprisingly not a rare occurrence.

"Yes?" The woman's voice was tight and stern. It was clear that she did not fool around.

The man reached into his pocket, and one of the woman's hands casually grasped the hilt of one of her daggers, preparing to fight if she needed to. There were many people in Argos who were not happy with the current leadership of King Iasus, who was the woman's father. She was always on guard when in the city.

The man, much to the woman's dismay (she thought she'd have a nice fight), pulled a small envelope out of his pocket.

"You are Atalanta, yes?" The man asked, "The daughter of King Iasus?"

Atalanta, the famed, virgin huntress, nodded, but continued to eye the man warily, as if she was expecting him to try to attack her.

"This is addressed to you," the man explained as he carefully handed it over to her. "It is from the rightful king of Iolcus."

Atalanta took the letter from the man, before drawing a hunting knife. The man took a nervous step backwards in response, and Atalanta gave a sly eye roll as she slit the letter open with her dagger. She sheathed her dagger and scanned the letter with a calculating gaze.

Atalanta was silent for a few minutes, something that frightened the messenger a bit.

"Alright," Atalanta said, realizing that their trip would be a win-win situation. Atalanta had a . . . lover, of sorts, and he had been pestering her for almost a year now. If she went on this trip, she would be gone for years; surely the man would move on if she were gone that long. But that was not the only reason she wished to go; Atalanta felt like she always had something to prove. As a woman, the other heroes, who were ninety-nine percent men, always looked down upon her. This would be a way to prove to the men that she could do everything that they could.

Atalanta was a huntress and a warrior—a _heroine_.

She would not be ignored any longer.

**A/N: And so we have it . . .a list below are the main characters, and their roles. This is to keep the story from getting confusing.**

** Perseus: Spartan son of Poseidon and Apprentice of Heracles.**

** Heracles: Son of Zeus.**

** Ekhion: Thracian son of Hermes and heir to the rule of Alope (a small region).**

** Eurytus: Older brother of Ekhion. Thracian son of Hermes. Lord of Alope.**

** Atalanta: Virgin Huntress who worships Artemis, her patron. Daughter of King Iasus, King of Argos.**

** Hylas: Squire of Heracles. A poet and philosopher who is living in the region of Arcadia (a part of the Peloponnesian peninsula)**

** Jason: Rightful king of Iolcus, and the leader of the Argonauts.**

** Argos (the person): Builder of the Argonauts' ship, the **_**Argo**_**.**

** Phylus: Personal messenger of Jason.**

** Ok. So please leave a review! Plot suggestions are welcomed. I'd love to hear from you all!**


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